Back On The Welcome Wagon [closed]

[bibliophale]

Aziraphale has kept his head down for the most part as he works at the Base, but lately, with Illyria having been at his shop, and now Crowley more or less avoiding him and Melanie still seeming guilty, it's been a bit of a blessing to go to work there. He sits quietly at his desk, entering data about new registrants, blessedly undisturbed.

Nearing the end of his shift, which comes early, due to his tendency to come in at the literal crack of dawn, one of his superiors stops by his desk.

"Your shift ends in five, right?" she asks.

"Er - yes." He blinks up at her, wondering if he'll be asked to stay on. Wouldn't be such a hardship.

"Are you heading to the apartments?"

He nods, frowning, perplexed.

"Great." She checks her watch. "Would you mind escorting one of the new recruits over there with you? We're just finishing up with him now. He'll have the keys to a new place, if you could show him around a bit, make sure he knows how to use his phone?"

Aziraphale doesn't tell her how comical it is that she wants him to help someone with those accursed so-called 'smartphones'. He nods calmly, getting to his feet.

"How recently did he arrive?" he wonders.

"Yesterday," she says. "And he's not from around here. If you know what I mean."

Well, none of them are. That isn't terribly informative. But Aziraphale will find out the rest for himself easily enough.

"I'll have him wait by the west entrance," she says. "Thanks so much, Az."

He resists the deep urge to quiver with irritation at the nickname. He is going to have to find a way to politely keep that from happening while acknowledging that yes, he knows his name is weird and difficult, and he's sorry about it, but please.

He shuts down his computer and gathers his umbrella, which he's taken to carrying no matter what after the previous rain incident - an affectation that only makes him look gayer, more academic, and more English according to certain of his acquaintances¹ - and heads toward the western path out.

It's not difficult to spot his charge, with his unusual facial markings, glowing eyes, oddly shaped and asymmetrical ears, and those clothes. He barely bats an eyelash at it, stepping over to the flamboyant little man and greeting him with, "Hallo. I'm to be your escort, it seems." He offers his hand. "Aziraphale. Pleased to meet you."


¹ Essentially up for grabs. If you're acquainted and you might have said this, you did.

Comments

[amourtician]

Jay smiles at Aziraphale, though it's visibly strained. He's getting very tired of dealing with official representatives. This one looks rather harassed, to boot, so Jay doesn't expect much sympathy or help.

He reminds himself that the alternative is dealing with the government and hitches his smile up a few notches.

"Jay Zimin, darling," he says, crisply. He gives Aziraphale a shallow bow and only then takes his hand. His grip is weak.

[bibliophale]

Aziraphale blinks in succession at the darling, the bow, and the limp-wristed handshake. He feels, for a moment, as though he ought to kiss Jay's hand instead of shake it, but he resists.

"Ah," he says pointlessly, releasing Jay's hand. "Well. I know this must all be quite a shock and... not a very welcome one, but we'll see that you're taken care of at any rate. Come with me."

He steps out through the exit, which leads them right into Columbus Circle's busy subway station. Aziraphale skirts wearily through the bustling press of city-dwelling Americans, making sure Jay is beside him at all times.

Once they're out in the open air he breathes a sigh of relief and stops at the edge of the park, turning to Jay.

"How would you like to get there?" he asks. He's been known to walk the full thirty-two blocks, but he wouldn't invite that on a mortal, and he suspects Jay is rather tired, in addition to standing out. "I could flag us down a cab - or we could venture back in there," he gives the subway entrance a brief disapproving stare, "and ride the 1 or the C up that way." He gives Jay an assessing look. Since he's arrived here he's become considerably less careful about who knows what he is - and after all, if he's to be living in the apartments, he'd find out soon enough. After the incident with Lucifer just about everyone knows there's an angel living somewhere in the building. "Or I could fly us," he offers a bit coyly.

[amourtician]

Jay follows Aziraphale, trying not to let his skepticism show on his face. He's not particularly confident that he'll be taken care of, but he feels like arguing the point won't do much good at all. He decides to put his reservations and hang-ups aside - for now, at least - and trust his guide.

He doesn't listen too closely to Aziraphale, at first, but then something catches his attention.

"Er, fly?" he says, eyebrow raised. "I had no idea this place was ... so advanced."

[bibliophale]

"Well, humans are flight-capable if you like to travel long distances very slowly," says Aziraphale breezily. "Quicker than their other forms of transport, but. This type of flying is only a - personal skill."

He holds out a hand, offering. "You won't feel a thing," he says reassuringly. "We'll get there in the matter of an eyeblink."

[amourtician]

Personal skill? Jay looks at Aziraphale doubtfully, not quite trusting him. Instantaneous flight sounds too good to be true and thus probably is. There must be some sort of catch. Things like instantaneous flight to anywhere do not exist without some really hideous other shoe, waiting to drop. He takes a small step back.

"Ahhh, that really does sound wonderful," he says, and then gives a nervous titter that gives lie to his words, "but first, do tell me: what's the price?" He cocks an eyebrow at Aziraphale, bracing himself for an offended reaction. Dispensers of miracles, in Jay's experience, do not take well to those miracles being questioned.

[bibliophale]

"No price," says Aziraphale, a little surprised, but not necessarily offended. "It's just that I'd rather get there quickly, all things considered."

Perhaps he'd do better to explain himself. He doesn't know if it will mean anything to Jay, but he sighs and says, "I'm an angel, you see. I have wings. I could show you, but - perhaps not in public." He's not that careless.

[amourtician]

Jay frowns at Aziraphale. "Angel" is an entirely meaningless word to him. Why an angel should have wings is entirely opaque. He cocks his head to one side, like a curious bird and raises an eyebrow. It's as much of an implied challenge as a question.

"An angel, huh?" he says, languidly. He's loath to reveal his ignorance. It's best to keep as many cards as he can close to his chest, he figures - something about the Rift and this strange new city has put him on edge, made him paranoid. "Well, darling, you can show off your wings to me later, in as ... ah, as private a setting as you want." It could be interpreted as lazy flirting. Or it could just be Jay being himself. "But I suppose if there's no catch, we should take the quickest route."

[bibliophale]

"All right," says Aziraphale pleasantly, completely missing any potential flirtation, and reaches out to take Jay's hand. "It might be a little bit disorienting for a first time."

He spreads his wings, not that Jay will be able to see - the act of flight is not so much a physical motion, more a bending of space around him, moving his body and any passengers through it quicker than regular dimensions allow. In a fraction of a second (from Jay's perspective) they've arrived outside the Rebel apartments.

"Here we are," he says brightly, letting go of Jay's hand. "Your new home."

[amourtician]

Jay takes a wobbly step away from Aziraphale and looks around, bewildered. They're somewhere completely different and he barely had time to blink. He shudders, unsettled, and looks up at the Rebel apartment building, taking it in.

"Yes," he says, a little hollowly. "Ah. My new home ..." he sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. "You know, I still ... I keep hoping I'll ... wake up and be back ... you know, back home. With ... with my sister ..." He takes a deep, shuddering breath and bites his lip as his throat constricts and tears come up to his eyes. "Oh Lord--"

He doesn't want to cry in public. Not now. He's too genuinely upset, too bereft, to want anyone to know about it.

[bibliophale]

"O-oh," stammers Aziraphale when he realizes what is happening. "Oh dear. I-" He reaches out but doesn't quite touch, not sure what would be welcome, or what to do. The poor creature. He is so very far from home, this all must feel so terrible and lonely. And here he is babbling about new homes, making a mess of things as usual.

"I'm sorry," he says softly, and after a moment of hesitation rests a gentle hand on Jay's shoulder. "I know this is very hard. But you don't have to go through it alone, you know, we try to look out for each other. I try to look out for everyone, as much as I can. It's more or less my imperative."

Is any of this helping? Probably nothing will help. Whenever humans get like this it's hard to cheer them up again, and Jay probably isn't that different in that regard, in spite of his non-humanness.